A Certain Kind Of Lover
by delta-foxtrotwrites
Summary: In the 60's it was only too easy for a girl like Blair Waldorf to tell a boy like Dan Humphrey that "girls like me don't end up with boys like you." DanxBlair mentions of SerenaxNate set vaguely in the 60's.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: **So I'm back again, with a new name but the same muse. This is what has been tentatively titled the Dan and Blair 60's project that I've been working on, on and off for a number of months now. A second part is underway but I think ultimately this story will be short, a classic tale of the rich girl and the poor boy and the feelings that neither of them would have counted on arising. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed imagining it all. A special mention to Raiza who, in the earliest days of the project, acted as my sounding board. The title is derived from 'A Sunday Kind of Love' by Etta James.

I do not own anything apart from the storyline. Any songs, artists, authors, publications, characters or otherwise are property of their rightful owners.

**001.**

A sultry jazz song strains from his record player while they lay side by side one another on his bedroom floor. His desk, she marveled at it the first time she'd come into his room, is pushed in front of the door so that no one can come in. A packet of cigarettes lies within reach of each sets of their fingertips and her feet are to the right of his head. His knees reach her shoulders.

He's not really all that tall, but she is rather short, her height pertaining to the kind of size that make people implicitly more inclined to describe her as cute. She hates it, he knows she does too, which is precisely why he makes a point to call her by it whenever the opportunity presents itself.

Their fingers touch occasionally but they never intertwine. It extinguishes the spark she thinks, so they don't hold hands unless they're in public. Behind closed doors she more than encourages the accidental brushing of fingertips, nimble, explorative fingers and light as a feather kisses that eventually lead from one thing to another; spark by spark until there's fire.

They talk about nothing. They argue about everything.

_You would think he was a genius._

_As opposed to thinking of him as a murderer or grammar? Yes. _

_This is why I won't read your stories. I can only imagine the appalling orchestration of the English language you would assemble._

He softly drags his finger down the arch of her heel. Her leg retracts almost instantly, toes curling and the word 'don't' leaving her lips. He does it again. She swats at his leg and with just a bit more force than last time says it once more.

She's only annoyed; he thinks he can risk it one more time.

"Dan!"

She sits up sharply, propped on her elbows and directs a withering look in his direction. "Do you have any idea how infuriating you are sometimes?" she asks, her lips curving into a smug smile. Every time she insults him, directly or not, she always looks relatively triumphant. This smile says, even if I like you, I still don't, and it makes no sense, but if you know Blair like Dan does it makes all the sense in the world.

Dan merely smiles. "You like me, really."

"No" she says firmly, lying back down. "I really don't."

He chuckles. "I've heard that before."

"So why hasn't it gotten through your thick skull yet?" she prods at his leg with a pointed finger. Her nails are getting long; Dan notices and is thankful he's wearing slacks.

* * *

Her mother is in Paris during the summer. Dan stays because the only person around is Dorota, the maid, second mother and keeper of all of Blair's secrets. Her door has a lock that is vastly more efficient then his desk working as a barricade.

They share her bath. It's big and marble and looks like something straight out of a palace. The sight of it brings to mind colonial styled mansions that the likes of the Pope, royalty and of course, the lavishly rich possess. Despite the fact that her clothes all boast a label of some kind Dan almost finds it easy to forget how much money Blair has.

He remembers when he sees the library in her house, which also has a lock they make use of.

Blair's pinned up hair tickles his chin while she leans against his chest. The soft sound of classical music filters in from her room and a smoke of a different kind wafts around her bathroom. Her slender and soft frame feels disjointed against him, lazy and heavy. Her head lulls, falls onto his shoulder and her eyelashes touch to her cheeks while she breaths out a sigh.

Dan's fingers trace over her collarbones, from one shoulder to the next and he breathes against her neck. "Do they know about me?"

"Who?"

"Anyone."

Blair replies in a simple voice. "No."

"Why?"

Her reason is simple. "I don't want to share you."

* * *

Blair had shared Dan at first, with Serena.

They had met in a bar that Serena often dragged her to. In saying that, Blair was fond of the place. The smoky bar was a call back to the twenties and forties with a stage, a full band and a singer. Every Friday night the stage was transformed and they put on burlesque shows.

Chuck loved it, Serena often joined in. Nate would stay by her side and occasionally let out a low whistle. It was a surprise they'd ever been interested in one another. He was much too flirtatious to be considered charming, and she was much too subdued to be considered endearingly shy. She would never do the things Serena did. Waldorf's couldn't do the things that the Van Der Woodsen's could, not because they weren't capable just because there were different sets of expectations for each of them.

Blair would get good grades and go to college. Serena would drift through school with a lack of concern and likely get married, a lot. They'd spoken about it a few times.

The night they met Chuck and Nate were pursuing a lost weekend. Serena had downed several gin martinis and slinked off backstage with one of the dancers to get dolled up. She knew all the routines. Blair knew all the routines as well, but remained in her seat, casually sipping a glass of champagne and reading through a selection of poems by Pablo Neruda.

Her attention was precise, as if she had tunnel vision and nothing outside of the words on her page and the glass of champagne in her hand were of any importance. The low thrum of conversation around her served as background noise. The remarks and looks cast in her direction went by unnoticed. At least, they went unnoticed until Serena came bounding up to her, all smiles and tugged her book from her grasp.

"B!" she enthused "come dance!"

Blair took in the sight of her beautiful and blonde best friend, clad in an outfit that could barely be considered anything more than lingerie. She looked feminine, womanly. It made Blair feel like a little girl.

Squashing down her inferiority complex with a sip of champagne she shook her head. "Serena" she protested "I could never…"

"Come on, why not?" she whined like a child, her words spoken around a silly smile that was infectious and Blair had to fight considerably not to adopt. "The dancer in the sapphire green outfit you love so much twisted her ankle and can't perform."

"I am not a replacement Serena and I have things to do."

Serena pouted and looked at the book she had managed to extract from her hands, her expression growing perplexed. "We're not studying any poetry this semester."

Snatching her book back and furrowing her brows Blair's eyes closed while she exhaled through her nose. "I know that. I never said I was doing school work."

"Well at least let Dan keep you company until I come back" she urged, turning around to wave her hand wildly above her head. She was signalling someone, Blair realized, a someone who had to be Dan, whoever Dan was.

"I can look after myself, you know."

The blonde grinned, her ocean eyes sparkling. "That doesn't mean you should have to, and besides" she tacked on "you'll like Dan."

She didn't like Dan. He questioned her literary taste ("Neruda?" he said. He raised a brow, lips twitching into an amused smile. "A little racy for a girl who would rather sit on the sidelines of a burlesque show rather than dance, don't you think?") He never stopped speaking, and with all the words he spoke he never once, not even out of general politeness, asked her to dance.

"If you're quite done criticizing me" the brunette finally snapped when her champagne flute was empty, "and don't even have the decency to ask me to dance or to offer to buy me a drink would you mind being quiet so I can go back to enjoying my evening."

Wearing a lopsided smile and leaning just slightly closer to her Dan spoke dubiously. "Do you _want _to dance?"

"With you?" Blair's nose bunched in distaste. "No."

Things went like that for awhile.

* * *

Serena drops out of school and becomes a dancer for the Friday night burlesque group. Blair's presence is mandatory. What isn't mandatory is Dan's, but he finds her every Friday and sits next to her like he was invited and she wants him there.

The burlesque dancers don't perform until ten. The back half of the stage is concealed by red velvet curtains and the first half is occupied by the in house singer. A blonde woman in a powder blue silk dress sings Etta James accompanied by an eleven piece band that only grows to be more elaborate as the night presses on.

Dan asks her about school, what she's reading, if she's been anywhere interesting recently, or seen anything worth seeing. He asks so many questions she begins to grow suspicious. Unless they're arguing, (which she supposes is often) she never learns anything about him. Then again, maybe it's that she never asks.

But Blair is feeling generous on one particular night and cuts in forcefully. "Enough, Daniel."

"It's Dan" he asserts automatically.

"Oh, whatever Humphrey" Blair flicks her wrist dismissively, resorts to his last name instead. "I don't know anything about you" she says, seemingly out of the blue, to him anyway. For Blair, this has really been a long time coming.

The realization that she knew so little of him was cushioned by the fact that she didn't care to know. The realization of how much he knew about her only made her wary that she didn't know him as well. Her desperation to even the odds up was the contributing factor that lead to the forthcoming conversation.

"There's nothing to know, or at least, nothing of interest anyway" he replies.

"You really know how to sell yourself" she scoffs.

He just smiles and takes a sip of his beer.

Seeing he won't willingly offer up anything Blair insists; "Tell me something."

"I write."

"You write?"

She sounds disbelieving and she looks it too. All the arguments they'd had over literature and films, heated and both equally passionate about their chosen opinion and she had never guessed that he felt so strongly because of artistic stand point. She's marginally disappointed in herself.

"You mustn't write anything good" she remarks hotly. "I've never heard of you."

Dan's sigh is bordering on laughter. "I'm not published" he amends.

"So what do you write then? Essays, assignments?" her tone verges on mocking, despite her genuine curiosity. It's not completely implausible that Serena's friend from Brooklyn isn't entirely disinteresting, is it?

"Stories mostly" Dan corrects her. He looks quiet, hands withdrawn from the table to twist in his lap like he cares what she thinks. She knows he doesn't, he's never taken any of her constructive criticism on board.

"And what do you write about?"

With a shrug of his shoulders and an off handed gesture he makes an inconsequential response. 'The things everyone writes about." When he bothers to look in Blair's direction Dan notices something in her chocolate eyes that usually isn't there. He could be mistaken, but he swears she's actually interested in what he's talking about.

"Love, romantic and unromantic, unrequited, torturous, all consuming" he begins to list the subjects that spring to mind, "idle fascinations, reimagined memories, beautiful women."

At this point Blair practically snorts. "I suppose you've written about Serena then" she states.

What's surprising to the brunette is how much she wants him to say no. What's even more surprising is the crushing weight of her disappointment when he doesn't.

In one fell swoop Dan Humphrey became every other boy she'd ever known.

* * *

Because Serena left school to be a dancer she ends up moving into the penthouse, taking the spare room. She and Lily aren't speaking; it's happened before though, so Blair can't really say she's worried all that much.

Dan helps move in Serena's things though there's barely any heavy lifting required that warrants his helping hands. He carries her luggage, several suitcases, and a trunk, all full of clothes. There are a few books, some photos, a small number of records and an impressive stash of liquor that has been stolen over the course of a few years.

It's the middle of summer and climbing up and down the penthouse stairs and traveling in the elevator grows tiresome quickly. Dan flops onto Serena's bed when they're done and releases an exhausted sigh.

"I'm so sorry Dan," Serena apologizes "I had no idea it would take so long."

He waves his hand, dismissing the subject with a barely audible 'don't worry about it. I was the one who offered to help.'

The blistering heat eliminates the collective majority of their motivation to do much else for the rest of the day so Serena selects a bottle from her stash and they share it around them. The bottle goes from hand to hand and Dan is surprised that Blair never makes any sort of comment about Brooklyn and germs, even more surprised when her lithe frame slumps and falls back onto the mattress next to his.

Nate, Serena's second pair of helping hands, shows up late with a thoroughly put out expression written across his face. "I just went to your mom's place" he speaks directly to Serena, "and she said you were already done."

"Nate!" Serena squeals, her lips adorning a smile that lights up her entire being while she spins on her heel. Her hands clap together excitedly and she abandons her task of changing the record they were listening to in favor of throwing her arms around the late arrival.

He catches her around the waist, his hands lingering at her hips when she draws back from their embrace. "Don't worry about it, Dan and Blair helped me" she explains, smiling over at the two of them still lying back on her mattress.

"You mean I helped you, while Blair criticized the way I walked up the stairs" Dan interjected.

Blair immediately came to her own defense. "Those stairs are marble and Dorota's knees hurt when she has to spend too much time on them scrubbing, you were going to leave scuff marks everywhere. Besides, you shouldn't drag your feet, it's a terrible practice."

Nate offers reparation for his absence earlier in the day by producing a cigarette case stocked with his most recent score. They open another bottle and Serena and Nate take up residence on the floor at the foot of the bed. The bottle goes clockwise and the smoke counter clockwise.

Their lacking motivation manifests into outright laziness and they argue over whose turn it is to get up and change the record every time one side finishes playing before Nate has a stroke of brilliance and suggests they switch to radio. Most of the songs are rock and roll, so Blair complains while Nate and Serena dance and Dan sings under his breath.

Eventually as night descends upon them the host opts for more jazz and Blair's mood lightens. The transcending calm and milder weather, now accompanied by a light breeze siphoning in through the cracked open window, renders the four of them almost completely still, satisfied with motionless interactions. The conversation is lazy and heavy with pauses and sighs.

"We should do this more often" Serena says, dropping her head onto Nate's shoulder.

Blair can feel Dan's laughter rumbling in his chest from her place next to him. "Nothing?" he questions.

Nate smiles and pushes his hair off his face. "Sounds good to me man."

Blair simply hums her agreement.

It seems perfectly insignificant when, by chance, Dan and Blair happen to be left alone while Nate and Serena go down to the kitchen to see if there's something that, between their lacking domestic skills, they can throw together. But a song comes on that consequently (and surprisingly) they each claim to love and Blair looks appropriately impressed when she speaks. "Humphrey, there may be hope for you yet."

His brow quirks upwards while he clambers from the bed and finds his feet. "You think?"

She smiles while Dan extends his hand in her direction. Four months later and he's finally asking her to dance.

* * *

The writing style is different to what I'm normally used to so I hope that those of you reading find it easy enough to follow. I know the time lines are a little confusing but all you need to know is that the first couple of scenes will likely be revisited once the story meets in the middle, and that those from there on are in chronological order, from their first meeting through to them gradually finding their footing around one another.

If you're so inclined I'd love to hear what you think, or to answer any questions. You can also catch me on my tumblr (the link can be found on my profile.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: **It is safe to presume that several months have passed since the content in the last chapter. My plan with this story is to focus on the stand out moments/days. So between Dan and Blair sharing a dance together and now you can assume there have been arguments over movies and plans and squabbles over Dan monopolizing _her friends_ and the like. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter or added the story to their alerts or favorites list, I smile because of each and every one of you.

002.

Over the course of November, December and January there are three occasions in which they exchange gifts. The first is Blair's birthday and the pressure to choose her present well becomes considerably more substantial when Dan learns from Serena in a very hushed tone that Blair recently found out her parents are separating.

Everything has to be kept quiet to save Blair and Eleanor from the scandal that Dan thinks is imminent; after all, Harold is leaving Eleanor for another man and such relationships are unspeakable. He's seen those that were unwisely proud beaten and bloodied and bruised, a warning to the others, and a reminder to the rest that the intolerance of the masses will not be absent anytime soon. What's more than that he doesn't see how such a thing can be kept a secret amongst the gossip hungry elitists they involve themselves with.

Blair's eyes don't light up when the blonde singer at the bar sings Etta James anymore, so he knows she's upset. She scowls at him more, criticizes his clothes and claims that 'everything was fine before you came along' as if she believes that her parents' separation is his fault. She leaves part way through Serena's dance routine. (After practicing a lot she's been promoted and gets to do a solo. The crowd loves her, so in turn, the director does as well.)

She apologizes later, even comes to Brooklyn just to do it.

Dan's surprised when, home alone one Sunday morning, he answers the door to see the fragile and broken looking girl he could only tentatively call his friend standing in his doorway.

"Serena gave me your address" she explained, drinking in his curious expression.

Her big brown eyes are flat and heavy and her whole body shakes. Autumn settled in at the beginning of October and now, almost halfway through November winter is beginning to make its impending arrival known. She's wearing a dress, (she always wears dresses, Dan's not sure he's ever seen her in anything else,) but a coat is nowhere in sight. Her bowed bottom lip quivers though he can't be entirely sure it's because she's cold.

He bustles her inside, his hands at her bare arms, rubbing to generate some sort of heat.

"I'm sorry" she says. She doesn't explain what for and he doesn't ask. It doesn't really matter.

"You're freezing" he says instead. Blair tries out a smile that feels (and looks) strange on her lips before deciding against it.

"I was in a hurry."

Dan takes her into his room, sits her on the bed and wraps her in a blanket and a promise of hot chocolate. Blair can't remember the last time anyone took care of her this way.

His room is quite neutral, not necessarily boyish, but a simple space to live. The walls are brick (brick!) and painted a dark navy blue. His bed is modest, big enough for two, though she's sure that unless Serena has paid him a friendly visit, there's only ever been one person in it. He has a desk hidden behind the door, and rows of clattered books stuffed in the shelves above his bed.

The desk is chaotic she notes under close inspection. She rises from his bed on wobbly legs to investigate it curiously. There are open notebooks and stray leafs of paper covering every available space. His rushed, lazy and yet charming handwriting covers most of the pages but there's an occasional snippet that belongs to someone else; notes from teachers she presumes, writers she knows he's been working with.

Clutching the blanket close to her body (it smells like him, a scent that's not decipherable but is familiar) Blair mindlessly sorts through his papers to see what lies beneath them. She finds a picture of them that Serena took while they were at the bar dancing and for just a moment she thinks that they look nice together.

They sit in the middle of his bed facing one another. Dan takes off her shoes, carefully undoing the buckles, and places them neatly on the floor. Their legs crowd the same space and Blair holds the steaming cup of hot chocolate in her small hands while he keeps the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

When it cools enough to be sipped at Blair surprises Dan by sharing. She shuffles closer to him, holds the mug to his lips and tilts it for him and no words are spoken until the cup is empty. They look at one another, dissimilar brown eyes floating over his bone structure, the shape of her lips, his jaw, her curls.

Words that could be said but are going left unspoken add weight to the air around them but Blair is tired and Dan doesn't think conversation for the sake of conversation will help. The only words he chances provide permission in a roundabout way for the thing that Blair wants the most.

"What do you need?"

"Just hold me."

* * *

Thanksgiving, Blair's favorite holiday, is the last one spent with both Harold and Eleanor in the house. On the verge of the holidays Serena and Lily made up and now, even she is gone. His suitcases are packed and placed by the door that night and in an effort to avoid saying goodbye (because it seems so final and Blair's not quite sure that she can take it) she slips out after dinner, forgoes dessert and heads across the bridge.

Rufus is at the gallery and Jenny is on the train to Hudson, planning on spending the remainder of the holiday with their mother. Normally Dan would have accompanied her, but he makes excuses about being 'on to a really good thing' with the story he's writing and stays behind, just in case. He doesn't even bother telling himself that he isn't doing this for Blair. He is doing this for Blair.

She doesn't knock anymore.

He smiles sadly when she appears in his doorway.

"I'm too old for it to hurt this much" she says.

So they share a bottle of wine and a packet of cigarettes and for the night everything seems okay.

* * *

By the time Christmas rolls around Blair is herself again and everything is back to normal.

The season is busy. Serena has dance rehearsals every other day and Dan spends a lot of his time helping his father out at the gallery. Blair alternates between Serena's rehearsals and Dan's work shifts and spending time with Nate who finds himself in the same situation as her but without a book to occupy his time. Chuck is spending Christmas somewhere warm, with a topless beach.

She works on her assignments. She works on herself and she works on buying everyone presents.

She buys Serena a camera because the blonde has been clicking away incessantly with a Polaroid and more than once voiced an interest in photography. She buys Nate a sweater, because she always buys him a sweater and he always buys her a headband. Chuck is left until later; she knows she won't see him until after the New Year. School doesn't matter all that much to the future head of Bass Industries.

When it comes to Dan Blair has to think. For her birthday Dan had given her a safe place which begged for reciprocation of something equally as thoughtful and considerate. Sentimental as she may be Dan is an obscure person to buy for. Money is an issue because his pride is always getting in the way. He wouldn't let her get him anything that he couldn't accost himself.

It's a miracle when –after enlisting Serena's help- Blair finds the perfect gift for him amidst their perusal of a second hand store. She had cringed at the thought of merely entering such an establishment and warred with herself before eventually making the purchase. But the typewriter has 'Humphrey, writer from Brooklyn' written all over it and Serena practically squeals in delight when the brunette asks her if she thinks he'll like it.

Despite Serena's encouragement Blair is still nervous about giving her gift to Dan because it absolutely has to be perfect and she refuses to accept anything less.

"Don't worry B" the blonde chides as they all bundle into the car Nate somehow managed to convince his parents to let him drive. He's shocking on the roads and Serena's giggles and gasps in the passenger seat. "He'll love it."

Sitting in the backseat by herself, their Christmas presents piled in beside her, the brunette grumbles that at this rate she won't get to give Dan her gift anyway.

It's Nate who makes things worse as he looks at her in the rearview mirror with a mischievous smile and says "why do you care so much anyway? I thought you didn't like Dan."

It's hard to be convincing as she says "I don't. But I went into a grimy secondhand store, he had better appreciate that."

The blondes exchange a glance that Blair knows means nothing good.

* * *

Christmas at the Humphrey's is almost everything that it used to be in the Waldorf house. Blair finds herself desperately trying to ward off her envy as they decorate the small space and the large tree and Dan's father hands everyone festive mugs filled with cocoa. His little sister Jenny, whom she had happened upon a couple of times in the past, shares conspiratorial smiles with her while she and Serena thread popcorn on string and speak animatedly of this and that.

Irrespective of the secret that she shares with the Humphrey's Blair feels devastatingly out of place in amongst everyone else's joy. It isn't until Dan cuts through her self pitying thoughts with a sharp 'Waldorf' that she feels like she's meant to be there.

"Come on" he says, a wry grin tugging at his lips, "Nate tells me that you orchestrate one hell of a Christmas tree."

Beaming with pleasure Blair folds her arms across her chest and states, "yes, I do" more than a little smug.

Eventually the four of them are left alone, Rufus and Jenny exiting in the hopes of checking out Christmas lights throughout the city. Serena and Nate, with red cheeks and half lidded gazes, are lying under the tree staring up through the branches of tinsel and fairy lights when Dan reaches for Blair's hand and tugs her into his room without a word. The blondes, too absorbed in the bliss of doing nothing, barely notice their absence.

Once the door clicks shut behind them Blair, cheeks flushed, pulls her hand from his grasp and turns on him instantaneously. "What on earth are you playing at?" she hisses. She gestures vaguely over her shoulder as she carries on, "do you want them to think something is going on?"

Dan, no longer offended by the sharp words that thoughtlessly spill from her pretty pink mouth, infuriatingly takes a step closer to her. And another, and another until her back is against the door and she can't escape him anymore. "Why would they think anything was going on" he countered, raising a challenging brow before his tone became teasing, "it's not as if you've spent the last two weeks fretting about whether or not I'll like the Christmas gift you got me."

And it pleases him in an only all too self indulgent way when Blair squirms under his gaze and his words, looking adorably put out and at a loss for anything to say. But she narrows her perfectly sculpted brows and pushes against his chest and demands him to 'stop being so annoying' and states that she doesn't know why she bothers.

She has to fight the urge to childishly stomp her foot when Dan tells her that it's because she likes him.

"As if" she scoffs, indignant as she turns up her nose. "Girls like me don't end up with boys like you."

Dan is unperturbed as he throws back "it's a good thing I'm not asking you to break the stereotype then, isn't it?"

And Blair feels a bit bad about saying what she said when Dan passes her the hazardously wrapped gift he got her. She had expected that just as she had the Brooklyn Boy would enlist the help of Serena, but Blair can tell it was all him once she's torn the paper away.

His gift is a ragged flannel shirt that smells more like her than it does like him and has kept her warm during impromptu visits and sleepovers that she would never confess to. Tucked away behind the buttons there is a vinyl copy of the first song they danced to which makes Blair feel truly awful and she doesn't feel any better when Dan is completely thrilled with his typewriter.

She's a horrible person. Or perhaps just a guilty one.

* * *

When they all pile into Nate's Studebaker Blair is forced to share the cramped backseat with Dan and his horrendously long legs. She glowers petulantly, frustrated, because she says mean things to Dan and he doesn't blink twice. Because in the past few weeks she's relied on him so greatly and it doesn't seem to bother him at all when she goes back to treating him poorly. Because during those weeks he went to such great lengths to cheer her up and he doesn't demand more respect from her. But mostly because she foolishly thought that maybe, just maybe he liked her and yet he seemed completely unaffected when she insinuated that she would never date someone like him.

* * *

The club is decorated for Christmas in a way so decadent that Blair's foul mood is momentarily replaced with admiration when they arrive. Dan helps her out of her coat and she doesn't say thank you or even look in his direction. She's not sad anymore and it's not as if they're friends. She tolerates him, for Serena's sake. And Nate's too she supposes, seeing as they're thick as thieves all of a sudden.

She misses Chuck, because Chuck would tell Dan in ways much more unkind to get lost. But that thought makes her feel bad too and she doesn't really miss Chuck and his penchant for the melodramatic anyway. Things are nicer when he's gone.

Not that Chuck doesn't have his uses.

They manage to secure the same table they always do, just up front with a good view of the stage and Dan and Nate go to check in all their coats. It occurs to Serena that this is her opening and she fixes her excited ocean eyes on her best friend with unquenched curiosity.

"So..?" she draws out the sound girlishly, her eyes flickering to the boys retreating figures.

Blair is unimpressed when she raises her brow and demands, "what?"

But Serena laughs off Blair's abrasive demeanor and proceeds, leaning forward to speak to her in a scandalized tone. "You, Dan, in his bedroom, _alone. _What was all that about?"

The brunette lies smoothly, "it looked like you and Nate could use the privacy." And changes the subject before Serena can think to dig deeper, inquiring, "What's going on with the two of you, anyway?"

Serena shrugs her shoulders, wears a smile that's just as coy as it is flirtatious. "Nothing" she says simply. "I don't know. It's Nate." The way she says it eludes to the unmistakable something that is almost always brewing between them but they never indulge; as if their friendship is so much more important to them. Blair doesn't know why they don't just get together already because it's obvious that he's completely in love with her but Serena always seems to prefer keeping her options open.

Blair supposes that if she were in Serena's position she might do the same. That is, until she determined just who was the best of them all. Besides, even though Serena is desired by the masses her failure to choose often leaves her on her own. What is a slew of admirer's at the expense of that?

Sometimes Blair has to wonder why she's really jealous of Serena at all.

* * *

As the night draws on and Serena and Nate get good and drunk Blair takes to reading the book that she told Serena she wanted for Christmas. She shoots furtive glances at Dan over the top of the pages every so often and swears she won't bother again when she sees him smiling at Serena who laughs like a four year old and insists "Dan, come dance with me!"

Nate shoots her a million dollar smile and Blair is reminded of why she liked him all those years. "You love to dance" he attempts to sway her, "and you didn't come here to read. Dance with me" he requests.

So the brunette fights the urge she has to smile while she marks her page, rolls her eyes and extends her hand to him with an exaggerated "fine." And Nate grins because he knows her well enough to know that all she really wants is someone to ask her to dance, to buy her a drink and to tell her she looks beautiful, which she does. Even more than that he thinks she wants those things from Dan.

But Nate keeps his suspicions to himself and twirls Blair out onto the dance floor before pulling her close. The singer's voice is cigarette smoke and champagne, accompanied by a brass section and a simple back and forth sway of movement. Music even he can dance to Blair would say but she's polite enough not to.

"How are things at home?" he asks instead.

Blair looks at him with wide brown eyes and informs him "I refuse to participate in my parents delusions."

The people that know them are under the impression that the Waldorf's will be moving to France once Blair graduates and that Harold is there already, setting up their house. Eleanor will be joining him in the summer, and Blair too her parents expect. No one knows about Roman, and definitely not about the separation.

"They're not even getting divorced" she states. She thinks it's completely absurd that her father suggested such a thing to spare her mother the shame of being a divorcee. She thinks it's even more absurd that her mother is going to go along with it. Her father is gay, why can't the world just to accept something like that?

She wonders why people can't just love whoever they want to but she knows life is not that gracious and neither is she. After all, she's the girl who told Dan Humphrey 'boys like you don't stand a chance with girls like me.'

* * *

One of the people who reviewed chapter one made note that the sixties element of the story was not very heavily featured. It's a vague element, I admit, because the way I write is centric to the characters specifically with very little mention of the world that exists outside of theirs. I hope that this is something that will grow in prominence as the story progresses when the characters each face things such as college and marriage and expectations. However it is a lot easier to imagine it all correctly if you have the songs that go with each scene. Every referenced piece of music throughout the story is based on a real song so if you would like for me to compile a playlist for each chapter specifying which songs go with which scenes it can easily be arranged-just let me know!


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